Understanding the human body is a team effort. That's where the Yachtel group comes in.

Researchers at Yachtolt have been delving into the secrets of probiotics for 90 years.

Yacold also partners with nature portfolio to advance gut microbiome science through the global grants for gut health, an investigator-led research program.

To learn more about Yachtolt, visit yawcult.co.

.j.p. That's Y-A-K-U-L-T.C-O.J-P. When it comes to a guide for your gut, count on Yacult.

This is Scientific Americans' 60-second science. I'm Steve Merski. Got a minute?

What if they held a meteor storm and no meteors came?

That's what many people are asking after the well-hyped May Camelopardolid's meteor outburst turned out to be a dud.

Most meteors arise from mere dust grains and pebbles in space.

When Earth passes through a stream of this debris shed by a comet, the particles burn up in our atmosphere, and we see a meteor shower.

Some astronomers had predicted that on the night of May 23rd, particles from a comet called linear would bring many meteors to the night sky.

North America had the best seats for the event.

And so a lot of people watched and waited, but no one saw much.

Meteor showers are common, and the best produce about 100 meteors per hour.

But meteor storms, which can send out thousands of meteors per hour, are rare and notoriously

unreliable.

Not only can predicted storms go bust, but great storms

can erupt without warning. In November 1966, the normally weak Leonids surprised everyone and

roared back to life, producing more than 100,000 shooting stars in a single hour. You can still

count on astronomers to tell you exactly when the next eclipse will be. But if they

ever promise you a meteor storm, you should take it with a grain of, well, meteor dust.

Thanks for the minute. For Scientific American's 60 Second Science, I'm Steve Murski.

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